"I rather envied her the motor ride," said Miss Delmege languidly, with the implication that no other consideration could have moved her to jealousy for a moment. "But, as a matter of fact, I couldn't manage to go myself--laid up with this wretched flu, you know. I simply wasn't fit to stir. Of course, Miss Vivian knew that; she was awfully sweet about it. But, then, I always say, the attractive thing about her _is_ that she's so desperately human, when once you get to know her." "And is she back at the office?" inquired Miss Plumtree, turning a deaf ear to these descriptive touches. "Comes back tomorrow morning, Monday. Some one from Plessing rang up yesterday afternoon when I was on telephone duty and said so." "That would be Lady Vivian's secretary, Miss Bruce." "Yes," said Miss Delmege reflectively. "She's been with them for years, and is perfectly devoted to Miss Vivian. She's too sweet about her--Miss Vivian, I mean. I've heard her telephoning sometimes; she calls her Brucey." "Frightfully human!" was Tony's enthusiastic comment. "Yes, isn't it?" A moment's thoughtful silence was consecrated to the consideration of Miss Vivian's humanity, and then Miss Plumtree was escorted upstairs to take off her hat. "Really, that girl looks a different creature!" Mrs. Potter exclaimed. "Doesn't she? She ought to be most awfully grateful to Miss Vivian. You know Miss Vivian arranged the whole thing? With all she's got to think of, too! But that's Miss Vivian all over. Never lets slip a chance of doing a kindness. I've seen her go out of her way...." But Miss Delmege's anecdote was not fated to meet with attention. Mrs. Bullivant walked into the sitting-room looking awestruck. "Girls, who do you think is coming to sleep here tomorrow night?" "There isn't _room_ for any one else, is there?" mildly inquired Mrs. Potter, who slept in a bedroom which contained four beds. "We shall have to manage somehow. I've just had a note--Miss Vivian is coming here." "She isn't!" There was a chorus of astonishment; then Miss Delmege's attenuated little tones contrived, as usual, to make themselves audible: "Well, I'm not altogether surprised, do you know? I'd rather suspected something of the kind. Plessing has to be kept quiet on account of Sir Piers; and she's been ill herself, and isn't fit to come backwards and forwards in this cold. I thought something of the kind would be arranged, and I had a very shrewd suspicion as to what it would be." It need not be added that nobody made the faintest pretence of believing in this prescience. "Well, I'm blessed!" said Miss Henderson emphatically. "Where is she going to sleep? There isn't a single room in the house, is there?"